


Dancing Her Dance

by Toumiko



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, OUAT - Freeform, Swan Queen - Freeform, Swen - Freeform, swanqueen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:17:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1389103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toumiko/pseuds/Toumiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After 3 weeks in a the same place, things can become a little... stagnant; sometimes even stressful, especially when a culprit on the loose, and no one can identify them.  Emma Swan, the new Detective in Storybrooke, is looking for a little stress relief, so she decides to try something new. What she gets is an unexpected romance that changes her life more than she anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work (ever), and I really enjoyed writing it, especially getting into Emma's mind! I hope you enjoy reading it as well. Thanks for stopping by! Special thanks to my more than supportive other half, Alvin, for proofreading and helping me perfect the wording and characterization!

Emma Swan cleared her throat.

“Hello?”

The reception area at the Seven Seasons performing arts studio was small. It was cut off from the rest of the building- its own separate area- with a door to the right of the desk that led to a hallway with more doors.

The desk itself was completely sealed off from the front, giving it the illusion of a large window. Emma examined the area as she reached the desk and started lightly tapping her fingers on its surface. She looked up and leaned onto an elbow. The low ceiling had soft fluorescent lights. There were chairs placed against the walls. There was a coffee table in the center of the room with pamphlets neatly stacked to one side.

Behind the desk there was a stack of papers, a container of pens, a computer, and a chair with a dark blue jacket haphazardly strewn across the top. There was also another door. She assumed it was the only way to get behind the desk, so she peeked into it as far as she could. No luck.

She checked her watch. Ugh. She’d been there 3 and a half minutes already.

“…Hello?”

 _This is ridiculous,_ she thought. Since she’d moved to Storybrooke, she’d been under more stress than she’d ever known.   So she had decided to sign up for ballroom dancing classes.

Her friend Graham, whom she’d met in college, told her a position “meant for her” had recently become available.

“You know, you could put that _insane_ intuition of yours to good use as a detective here,” he had said, “It’s a small town too, so it’s not like you’ll have much to do anyway. You’ll have job security with better pay. _And_ you’ll get to see my gorgeous face every day.”

“If you say so, Graham-a.”

Emma rolled her eyes and smiled at the memory. Graham and his lame humor. She could live with having Storybrooke’s Sheriff as her boss.

However, small town as it was, in the past 3 weeks she’d seen more action than she had working in the bail bonds business in Boston. Then again, in almost every case she couldn’t really call it “action”. Her first week as detective was mostly filling out paperwork and becoming acquainted with her surroundings--- in the office and around the town. Since then she had investigated a leaky pipe, fixed a flat tire, rescued a cat from a tree, helped an elementary school student unbury her doll from the backyard, scolded minors for trying to get into an R-rated movie… the “usual” detective work.

But most recently there had been a series of robberies and thefts--- one of which left Mrs. Lucas, known more commonly as Granny, with a broken arm and a bloody lip. Of course, what bothered that old goat most was her failure to capture or identify the culprit. So Emma had spent the last several days going door-to-door, trying to find something, _anything,_ that could get her a lead.

So now here she was, as Archie Hopper had advised. He had noticed her exhaustion after she had finished questioning him. “You can’t go wrong with a little exercise. Getting you blood pumping will help with the stress, and who knows? Maybe you’ll be able to think more clearly once you’re home.” He had suggested a few things; yoga, kickboxing, regular boxing, plain old jogging, and ballroom dancing, among other things.

Yoga sounded boring, and she had tried boxing before. It wasn’t for her. But ballroom dancing grabbed her attention. She didn’t know much about it to begin with, and she hadn’t experienced anything like it in her life, so why not? Not to mention she could set goals for herself. Maybe she’d even make friends. Or _meet_ someone.

“Hey! Anyone here?” Emma said a little louder, pounding her palm impatiently on the desk.

She heard some shuffling from behind the open door. A few seconds later a woman burst through, followed by, “Please excuse- Sorry!! I mean- How can I help you?” The woman said the last phrase with an exasperated sigh. When she realized how that sounded, she winced and then gave Emma a meek smile.

Emma ignored the flub and said, “Hi, um… I’m interested in signing up for a class here?”

The woman scrambled to her chair and opened a binder. “Yes, which were you interested in?” She scanned the page of the open binder, which seemed to give her some comfort.

“Well, I’m not too familiar with this sort of thing. What’s easiest? In your opinion.”

The woman’s eyes lit up. She had completely recovered from the earlier incident. “It depends on what you’re looking for.” As the woman went on about the different types of dances, Emma finally took a good look at who she was talking to. The woman had milky white skin and incredibly short dark hair. _If I cut my hair like that, I’d look like a British man._ She was wearing black leggings and a loose fitting navy top. Underneath she had on a black camisole. On her deep green eyes, she wore a minimal amount of makeup, and in her ears were a pair of ruby studs. She wasn’t wearing any other jewelry, but she had what appeared to be a diamond ring on her left ring finger.

“…but anyway most classes start off at a slow enough pace for beginners. More advanced students pair up with newer students so at least one person knows what they’re doing. The instructors are well trained, but I step in to teach class when I can, so I’ll do my best to make sure no one is left behind. If anything, we also do private lessons.”

Emma nodded, but allowed the woman to continue.

“Most adults who are just starting go to the Argentine Tango class, but it’s really up to you. That’s probably the most popular choice.”

Emma considered it. _Well, lots of people in a class means lots of people to observe._ She could make friends while continuing her investigation. “Sure, sounds good to me.”

The woman beamed. “All right! I’ll pencil you in. Beginner classes for tango are Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 6:30pm, and we have a Q&A session Thursday night at 6:00 for when you’ve been here a while.” She took a business card and wrote on the back. “Here, just in case you forget. Go ahead and drop in to any of those. First class is free. If it’s what you’re looking for, we’ll discuss payment and all that.”

Emma nodded again. “Great. Yeah, I’ll think I’ll try the beginner class.”

“All right, what’s today… Tuesday? Next class is tomorrow then. I’ll just need you to fill out this information sheet and this waiver.” The woman handed Emma two sheets of paper and a pen. _People actually get injured_ dancing? Emma shrugged off the thought, picked up the pen, and started writing.

Not a moment later, the woman spoke, making Emma jump. “Oh my goodness! I never asked your name! So sorry about that. I’m Mary. Mary Margaret Blanch- Nolan.” She fidgeted with the ring on her finger as a smile crept up to her eyes. “Some of the regulars call me Madame Mary, but it’s more of a joke. Anyway, enough about me.” She gestured to Emma.

Emma put down the pen and extended her right hand over the desk. “Emma Swan. I just moved here about 3 weeks ago. I work with Sheriff Humbert as a detective.” Mary took her hand and shook. “Pleasure to meet you Emma. See you tomorrow!”


	2. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma gets a phone call and, later, has a chance encounter with the Mayor.

Emma spent most of the next morning perusing old notes. Something would come to her after looking through them with a fresh mind, she assumed. Then again, she assumed the same thing every morning since she had set out on the case. But giving up wouldn’t help anybody.

She’d seen Graham for a bit this morning, before he went about the town. Other than the occasional phone call concerning “detective work” that needed to be done, this was a typical day. Emma would stay at the office in the morning; Graham would go out then come back a few hours later; Emma would get lunch at Granny’s Diner and catch up on the latest gossip with Mrs. Lucas and Ruby; Emma would take care of anything that needed to be done outside the office; Emma would come back to the office; Emma would file her notes for tomorrow and go home.

And tonight Emma would be going to her first tango class.

She wasn’t overly excited, but it was an interrupti­on to the monotony, so it was something to look forward to.

\----------------

It had been almost 3 hours, and Graham would be back soon, and she could get some fresh air. She removed her glasses, sank into her chair, stretched, and let out an enormous yawn.

_Briiinnggggg_

Emma groaned. _Another flat tire_.

She picked up the phone. “Storybrooke Police Department, this is Detective Swan. What is the reason for your call?”

A man’s voice answered, clearly shaken. “H-hello? Um. Something just happened here I-I-I was gone for ten minutes and- something happened. I think that’s blood over there and the window- there’s glass on the floor- I can’t find him! I was only gone for ten minutes and something… something” His breathing was sporadic. Poor guy sounded like he was going to cry.

“It’s ok sir. Take a deep breath, it’s ok. Can you tell me your name and location?” Emma spoke slowly, enunciating each word. She knew hearing someone speak slowly had a calming effect.

There was an audible gulp. The man was breathing heavy, shallow breaths. A few moments later he was able to speak. “I’m… My name is Mike. Mike Primblush. I’m at home. It’s um… 4th Street and Pine.”

“Got it, I’ll be there right away”

Emma hung up the phone. She grabbed her keys, wallet, mobile phone, a notepad, and a pen. She tucked the pen onto her ear, stuffed her wallet into her pocket and hurried to her car.

She unlocked the door and threw her things onto the passenger’s seat, started the car, and drove off.

\---------

When Emma reached the intersection she spotted the place easily enough- a small crowd had assembled in front of a house. She parked and stepped out of the car, notepad in hand. At first glance she found the crowd… unusual. She’d never seen so many little men at once. There were five of them.

“Pardon me. I’m Detective Swan. I’m looking for a Mike?”

One of the men walked toward her. He was wearing a red shirt under black leather jacket and a black fedora. He stared at a crack in the pavement as he approached. “That’s me,” he mumbled, daring to meet her eyes.

Emma nodded in acknowledgement. “First things first. What happened here?” She took the pen from her ear.

“I left about half an hour ago to drop something at the post office. When I came back, the window… the window was broken.” He was playing with the hem of his jacket as he spoke. “There’s a smear over here…” He led her to it. “I think it’s blood. I-I don’t know where Drixy went.”

“Who’s Drixy?” Emma inquired as she knelt and examined the bloodstain. It looked like someone had painted it on the driveway by forcefully swinging a paintbrush, and then held it in one spot to drip.

“He’s my dog. He’s not very big, but he’d stand his ground if there was an intruder. That’s what scares me.”

Ah, that was the answer. It was perfectly plausible that Drixy had bitten the culprit and drawn blood, causing the culprit to shake free of the dog and make the blood spatter.

Emma scribbled in the notepad. “Anything else?” she asked.

“Yeah, well… this is going to sound strange but…” Emma stopped writing and waited for him to continue. “Only one thing was missing. A Pysanka I’ve had since I could remember. You know, those colorful decorated eggs? ”

“Mhm.” She started writing again.

“I’m… It’s kind of upsetting because it means so much to me. But… what a strange thing for someone to take.”

 _Strange indeed_. Emma had a feeling in her gut that she couldn’t quite place. So she ignored it for now and continued to gather information: After calling the police, Mike had phoned his brothers, four of which had come immediately. He wanted them there for emotional support, mostly. She felt it was important to note that Mike lived with his brother Leroy. He had an egg too, and it was still displayed where he had left it. The crime scene was untouched, and she asked them to keep it that way.

A while later, when Emma satisfied with her notes, she told Mike and his brothers she’d keep an eye out for Drixy, and she’d be back in about an hour with the Sheriff.

\---------

Emma arrived at the office and didn’t see Graham’s car yet, so she called him to tell him something was up, and requested he meet her at the station in ten minutes.

She stepped out of the car and located her key to the office. She turned it in the lock.

_Huh?_

She felt stomach drop to her knees. She never left the door unlocked. She pushed the door open and scanned the area. Several things were amiss.

She grew more anxious the longer she stood. The lights were still on. She looked down and saw a coat, scarf, and gloves hung on the coat rack. A file cabinet drawer was slightly ajar.

Instinctively, Emma groped around her pockets for something she could use as a weapon, and when she found nothing, she looked around and grabbed the first thing she could find--- a mop handle.

She tiptoed to a corner, raising the mop handle to her ear. She suspected she was not alone, a suspicion that was momentarily confirmed when she heard papers shuffling and the _clack-clack_ of heels on tile. Suddenly, she was hit with an electrifying realization. Yes! This could be the culprit she was looking for!

Could the case that had been weighing on her for days be settled by a stroke of luck and a reckless idiot?

 _Who the hell steals from the cops anyway?_ Emma thought as she braced herself. Her gut was a mess of apprehension and fear and several other things. All the more reason to get this over with.

She jumped out from the corner and held the handle out. “You know, you have got to be the worst thief I’ve ever seen,” she announced.

The intruder looked up casually, eyeing Emma as if she were a worm on the sidewalk. “Excuse me?”

“It’s _you_ who should be explaining yourself.” Emma stabbed the air with the handle. “Who in the _hell_ robs a police station in the middle of the day? Are you stupid?”

As she waited for a reply, she studied the intruder- a slender woman of average height, with dark brown shoulder length hair. She wore a moderate amount of makeup that accentuated her eyes, and deep crimson lipstick. Emma had to admit, she was unbelievably attractive. And she had an aura about her that Emma couldn’t quite place--- fierce? Elegant? Domineering? Regal? Yes, regal. That was it.

“First: ‘nobody’; and second: ‘no’, I am not stupid. I’m the mayor, and you would be well suited to remember that. Now answer me. Would I wear this,” she gestured to her outfit, “if I wanted to steal something? _”_

Emma felt a flush creep up her neck and to the top of her head. _Yeah, who would._ And now that she thought about it, a burglar wouldn’t leave their coat on a coat rack. The woman was wearing a _vest_ and a matching knee-length skirt. If that wasn’t enough, the heels of her polished shoes were at least three inches. Not something you could wear and get away from a crime scene easily. “Wow. Well um… sorry for the confusion. But I’d still like to know how you got in here and why… if you would be so kind.”

“ _Mayor Mills_.”

“Oh! Sorry. I’m Emma Swan. Detective Emma Sw-” Emma had her hand extended, but it was a needless effort.

“I could care less who you are.”

“Well you told me yours so I assumed-”

“You assumed wrong. I told you because you should address me as Mayor Mills. Madam Mayor serves just as well.”

Emma ground her teeth. She had more important things to do than argue about formalities. “Ok that’s great but I’d still like to know what’s going on.”

Ms. Mills ignored Emma continued with her business. She appeared to be signing something, but Emma couldn’t see from this far away. “Did you hear me?” Emma tried again. No reply.

“Hey! I’m talking to you,” Emma snapped as she stomped over to the woman. _Geez,_ thought Emma, _she and I are both working full-grown adults and here she is, acting like a 12 year old._ “Will you please answer me, _Madam Mayor_ ,” she finally said, not bothering to mask her irritation.

“If you insist.” Ms. Mills’ eyes never left the page, “I have a long list of duties as mayor. Some of those duties are kept here in the filing cabinet. I take care of them when I can. Now please leave me to them.”

“Why don’t you leave them in your Mayor’s office? Or at home?”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job when you obviously don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Emma fumed.

“Hey! ‘Mayor” does not mean ‘dictator’, so stop acting like-”

“It’s ok Em, she’s not hurting anyone by working here.”

Emma felt a wash of relief, forgetting all about Ms. Mills--- well, mostly--- and rushed over to Graham. She gave him the details of the earlier events with Mr. Primblush and informed him that they needed to go back for further investigation.

“All right, let’s get going then,” he said when she finished.

“Are we just going to leave _her_ here?” Emma said in a hushed tone.

“Sure, I told you already, it’s all good.” He shuffled over to the door. Emma followed.

“Why didn’t you tell me about her before?”

“I _have._ You were probably not paying attention.”

“I think I would have remembered talking about the damned Mayor.”

“Come on really? I swear I told you once that she’s always in the office, but you’re usually out when she’s here.”

“Nope, don’t think you did.”

“Suit yourself,” Graham smirked. He paused as they walked out and looked over his shoulder. “See you around, Regina.”

“See you around, Sheriff,” she replied.

Moments later, they were at Graham’s car. Emma plopped into the seat and buckled herself in. Graham did the same, and caught Emma with a melancholy expression on her face.

“What’s the matter Emma?”

“…Nothing. Let’s get moving.”

It wasn’t nothing. It was just stupid and embarrassing. And she didn’t want to say it out loud. Maybe it was the way Ms. Mills had disregarded her- like she was worth less than the dirt on the bottom of her shoe. She’d had quite enough of that kind of treatment in her life. All it did was bring back memories she’d rather not think about. She could tolerate rudeness, stupidity, and even violent behavior. But she had absolutely zero tolerance for being treated like scum. And Regina had done just that. She couldn’t help it… she _abhorred_ the woman.

But that wasn’t even the whole of it.

Graham had called her by her first name… what was it? Regina. And Regina had spoken only to Graham as they walked out the door, acting as if Emma wasn’t there. It hurt that Graham was friendly with someone who had treated her so poorly. She might even admit she was jealous. For starters, the only time Regina spoke to her was to inform Emma how to address her properly. Was it so hard to accept that there had been a misunderstanding? Or did she treat all people like garbage?

Obviously not. Because she treated Graham like an actual human being. And he knew her first name.

 _Knock it off. Of course he knows her first name,_ Emma scolded herself. He’d been the Sheriff of the Storybrooke for the past eight years. He had probably known Regina since before then. Emma hadn’t even known her eight minutes.

Emma sighed. She was exasperated. About the case, about the last several minutes, about the old memories that had come swirling into her head. And mostly about the fact that she had become so upset over something so… dumb.

As they pulled up to Mr. Primblush’s house, she took a few deep breaths and regained composure.

As she opened the door, a small dog bolted over to her, yipping. She scratched it behind the ear. “Is this Drixy?” she shouted when Mike emerged from his front door.

“Y-yeah... He came back! Must have given chase. He had a red smear on his nose. You saw the bloodstain… right?” He was looking at his feet.

“Yeah, got it all written down. I took pictures too,” Emma said as she patted her jacket pocket.

“And I’ve got the official police report right here,” Graham added. He was holding a clipboard and jotting down what he needed.

Emma took out her notepad and took a fresh look around with Graham. She explained what the deal was--- a window was broken, an egg was stolen, Drixy the dog attacked and chased the thief, there was blood--- and he took his own notes.

“So we’ll keep our eyes out for anyone with a limp or a bandaged hand. And of course a pretty blue egg with glitter,” Graham concluded when they had searched everything they could.

“Um… they’re rhinestones,” Mike chimed, “…sorry.”

“A pretty blue egg with rhinestones then.” Graham chuckled, not unkindly.

“Glad to see you got your dog back,” Emma said with a smile.

\------

It was nearly 5:00 in the evening when they got back to the station. Graham recounted his morning to Emma as they left Mike’s house, and was still talking when they arrived at the office. Once inside, Emma stashed her notes. Her brain had checked out for the day, and she just wanted to get out of there.

She said goodnight to Graham and hurried out to her car. Once inside, she sat back and closed her eyes. Finally, she could relax. But not here.

She forced herself to sit up, turned on the ignition and left the parking lot.

As she approached a stoplight, she glanced at the center console and saw the business card she had left there.

_Shit, I forgot._

Dance class was the absolute last thing on her mind today. She rubbed her brow. All she wanted to do right now was lay on the couch with a movie on. But she remembered why she wanted to sign up. _Plus I could use some exercise_ , she convinced herself.

Once home, she took a shower and got dressed to go out. She figured class wasn’t a special occasion, but she wanted to make a good first impression. So she wore one of her nicer casual shirts, a pair of jeans, and an old pair of faded black flats.

She checked herself in the mirror, combing her fingers through her hair as she did so. She didn’t bother putting on anything more than some eyeliner; she’d had a long day after all.

Finally she fixed herself a snack, some leftover pasta salad, an apple, and a glass of water. She wolfed them down gratefully. She had been so busy she forgot to get lunch, so she was starving.

When she finished, she stuck a piece of gum in her mouth and grabbed her keys. She looked at the clock on the stove; it read 6:05. Plenty of time to get there and talk with Mary and whoever else showed up.

_All right, here we go._

Emma got into her car departed for the Seven Seasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if it was clear enough, but Mike is Bashful. :)


	3. First Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma tackles several challenges, including a less than enoyable moment with a certain someone, and discovers she has a new passion.

“Emma! Welcome back, I’m so glad you made it!” Mary Margaret Nolan rushed over as Emma entered the reception area and wrapped her in a hug. Emma, although taken aback at first, promptly returned the hug. It was nice to be received so warmly.

As Mary led her through the door, into the hallway, she rambled on about something. Emma wasn’t paying attention. She was too distracted trying to figure out what the stale, chalky smell that hung in the air was.

There were seven doors with large windows in the hallway. Each time they passed a door, Emma turned her head to look inside. Five of the rooms were occupied by studio members, ranging from grade schoolers to adults.

Emma recognized they were practicing ballet in a few of the rooms. She wasn’t _that_ uncultured. She didn’t recognize the other types of dance.

Each room had mirrors on three of the four walls, giving the illusion that the building was much larger than it actually was. “The group in the last room had brought home first place from a regional championship,” Mary boasted as they passed the last door. Emma, still lost in her thoughts, only half heard and muttered appreciation.

At the end of the hall, there was a steel grating that opened up to a platform. _An elevator?_

Emma turned to Mary. “There’s another floor? It didn’t look so big from the outside.”

“Uh-huh, the floor downstairs has bigger practice spaces, so our largest classes are down there. By the way, if the elevator takes too long, there’s a stairway in there.” Mary pointed at the nearest door. Then she pressed a button to open the door and they stepped inside.

She continued a story she’d been telling earlier about how one time a girl on the regional championship team left her outfit at home and the competition was 3 hours away and it was a disaster and they ended up having to beg another team to borrow one and… Emma wasn’t really interested but she pretended to be.

A short ride later, the doors reopened to what Emma could only describe as, well… a grand ballroom. The ceiling was twenty feet high and there was a large chandelier hanging from the center. The room was a perfect square, and the walls had to be at least 100 feet across, with electric sconces hanging every few feet. The floors were made of solid polished Maplewood. There were thick wooden bars secured along one of the walls, set horizontally about a foot away from the wall itself. Finally, there were wooden tables placed around the perimeter; each had four chairs with red velvet cushions. Whoever built this place did a good job creating atmosphere. The only thing that might have been out of place was a set of metal lockers next to the elevator, but even those were finished to look like wood.

Emma gawked for a good fifteen second before she spoke. “Wow, this is… how did you manage to put all of this together? It must have cost a fortune!”

“Well, David, my husband,” Mary beamed, “is the son of the CEO of RozenCorp. This was his way of making an impression.”

“An impression?”

“For our first anniversary he got me,” she raised her arms to present the room, “ _this_ under my house.”

 _Jesus,_ thought Emma, _how were you_ not _scared away by a stunt like that?_

“Wait what? You live here? How in the world did you not notice construction going on under your own house?” Emma asked, incredulously.

“Well, it’s where I grew up. My parents left it for me before they passed…” she paused for a moment, solemnly. “But anyway, there’s a whole section of this building that serves as my living space. When I was 22, I had the rooms redone and got the studio up and running. I met David a year later, and six months after that I was invited to teach a seminar in England. I left David in charge, and just like that, he made all this happen.”

“Wow, you must be really well known then.” Emma was genuinely impressed with Mary, but was still stuck on the fact that a guy would do something so grand without an ulterior motive. The whole situation just sounded crazy. But whatever, as long as they were happy, it wasn’t her business.

“Yeah. Nice thing about being an instructor is you don’t get a lot of unwanted public attention, but if you’re recognized within the circle, you get great opportunities like those.”

Emma glanced at the clock. 6:25PM. She’d been so caught up talking to Mary that she didn’t realize how many people had come in.

Mary raised her eyes to see what Emma was looking at. “Oh! Dear, it’s almost time, isn’t it?”

“Seems so. You teaching class tonight?”

“Not tonight. But I’ll stay down here for a bit in case you have any questions.”

Emma’s face showed a look of disappointment. Mary had been amazing to her from the moment they met, and Emma could tell she was the sort of person you could really depend on to take care of you. But she’d have to go this one without her.

She forced a smile, but Mary had already seen her initial reaction. She put a gentle hand on Emma’s shoulder and said, “Relax, Mr. Jones- he prefers Killian- doesn’t bite. I’ll warn you though, he’s a huge flirt. Just don’t take his advances seriously.”

_Guys teach dancing, huh? Shows what I know._

Mary continued, “If he bothers you let me know and I promise you… he won’t do it again.” She emphasized that last bit with a rigid tone that took Emma by surprise. _Well, she’s a lovely woman, but it might be wise to stay on her good side._

Mary excused herself and made her way around the area. Emma stayed back and surveyed the room. A few people were doing warm-ups, while others were in a state of deep concentration, dancing with no one. Emma assumed they were going over whatever they learned on Monday, but she couldn’t help but laugh to herself. They looked really silly.

She recognized a few faces; she’d seen them around town or spoken with them about the crime spree. She even saw Mr. Primblush, which surprised her. He didn’t seem like the type who’d go out and do something so socially interactive. Emma decided to wait until later to re-introduce herself. That way, she could at least make idle conversation if she got bored.

Two minutes until class started, and there was still no sign of this “Killian”. She didn’t even know who she was waiting for, but she assumed she’d know when he walked in.

“For someone whose job it is to investigate and research, it’s interesting that you’re not prepared. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Emma bristled. She recognized that smug, sultry voice. She’d just heard it for the first time not too long ago, anyway, and she wouldn’t forget the bitter feeling associated with it anytime soon.

“Prepared for _what_?” She said flatly, turning to face the owner of the voice. She ignored the slight.

“Your shoes. They’re not the kind you use for tango. The only thing they’re good for is slowing your partner down.” The mayor of Storybrooke stood sumptuously, wearing black slacks, a scarlet-colored blouse, and “tango shoes”, open toed high heels that were fitted to her foot and strapped at the ankle. _Of course,_ Emma thought exasperatingly, _Regina_ would _dress like it was a special occasion._

Emma wasn’t going to let this ruin her ballroom dancing experience. It was meant to help her escape from a stressful lifestyle, not add to it. And Mary was such a sweetheart. She couldn’t give up because of one person in the class without at least giving it a good try. She just had to avoid the drama.

Regina wasn’t finished. “The internet has made finding information _very_ easy. Take 5 minutes out of your day and you won’t look so foolish.”

“Look- thank you- Madam Mayor. I have a very demanding job, and honestly, I don’t care if I look foolish. I would have figured it out at some point anyway-“

“I’m telling you now.”

“ _As I was saying,_ I’m a busy woman and I don’t need to study every single thing I do.”

“My, aren’t we getting defensive. I’m just trying to help you lead a more structured life. Take it or leave it.” Regina narrowed her eyes. “Let me tell you though, my dear- you don’t know what busy is. Even being here is part of my job. I don’t do it for fun.”

“Why then?”

“I do several community activities. It’s what’s expected of me. I mingle with the people, so I can get to know them on a personal level, as acquaintances.” Emma swore she heard Regina mutter, “Not like I need real friends,” under her breath.

_No real friends? Gee, I wonder why._

“I have very little free time,” Regina continued, “but I’ve got my life where I want it to be. I set a good example, one which you could take to heart.”

Emma opened her mouth to tell Regina that she could set an example by shutting up and being nice, then maybe she’d have some friends, when a voice boomed from behind, startling her.

“ALL RIGHT class. I have arrived, so Let. Us. BEGIN!” He clapped his hands on each of the last three syllables for emphasis.

The clock now read 6:35PM. That wasn’t terribly late, but she still expected the teacher to be on time, if not early. She had hoped to meet him before class, anyway, but that moment passed. Oh well, Mary was still there, so she could help get Emma acquainted with everyone. She looked for Mary and didn’t see her. _Nevermind, looks like she’s gone._

She was relieved to see that Regina hadn’t hung around, but had stridden halfway across the room. Emma realized she was still holding her things, so she stashed them into an available locker and found a place to stand nearby. All the females stood on one side of the room, and all the males on the other. Of the 40-odd attendees, the majority were women, so Killian chose eight of the more experienced ladies to get on the other side.

“All right. Before we get to the technique… I understand we have a newcomer today.” He flourished his hands in Emma’s direction. _This guy has way too much enthusiasm,_ thought Emma as she smiled and stepped forward. He put emphasis on every other word, probably to avoid sounding boring. Well, it worked. “Your name, love?”

“Emma Swan.” She waved her hand though the air, almost a salute. “Nice to meet you all.” She looked at Killian and nodded as if to say “that’s all”. Mike and a few other people smiled and waved back.

“OK! ‘Follows’, find a lead. Ms. Swan, I’ll have you pair with me first, and I’ll give you a short rundown of the basics. Form a circle around the room with your partners!” Emma figured out easily enough that he meant “one side of the room get a partner from the other side”. He placed Emma’s left hand on his right shoulder and held her right hand in his left, out to the side. “Basic walks, begin!” He pulled a remote control out of his pocket and clicked a button. Moderately paced music started to play from the walls and ceiling. _Wow, they’ve even got built in surround sound._

“I assume I’m the follower?” Emma asked him, bringing the conversation to a more personal level.

“Yes, and it’s ‘follow’. Don’t dwell too much on it,” he answered.

“And the lead-”

“-is called the lead because he… leads.”

“Fair enough.”

“Traditionally, the lead is male, but we work with what we’ve got. It’s not uncommon to see pairs of the same gender. As you progress, you’ll learn how to be both; it makes you better all around.”

Mr. Killian, as Emma would secretly call him from now on, put away the remote and placed his hand on Emma’s waist. His expression changed from lively enthusiasm to one of complete sincerity. In a more hushed voice he said, “So Basic walk. It’s just as it sounds… For now, you’ve got the easy part; follow my feet, just try not to get stepped on. Here, I step with this foot,” he stepped with his left foot, “and you step backwards with that foot.” He looked down and pointed his chin to Emma’s right foot. “Ok, same thing on the other foot. Now, other foot one more time. Good. Now slide your right foot in. Connect your knees, but don’t let the feet touch. Yup, you’ve got it, just like that.”

Emma smiled. This wasn’t what she expected, but it was just challenging enough that she could enjoy it without becoming too frustrated. And she was relieved that Mr. Killian was actually a wonderful, supportive, and not-creepy teacher. He could lay off the cologne a bit though.

“Ok, try the other side now--- start with your left foot.” As much as she tried, her feet refused to listen to her brain, and her steps were a mess, causing them both laugh. She definitely saw what made tango so appealing.

As they walked, he did his best to get her caught up. He explained the differences in positioning: He was holding her in an “open embrace”, where they connected at the arms but left space elsewhere between them. Then there was the more sensual “close embrace”. He pointed out couples around the room that were in close embrace. “See how little space there is between them? Chest, legs, hips, all connected… that’s a more advanced position. However… if you are ever uncomfortable being in someone’s close embrace, you let them know immediately. And come to me if it becomes a problem. Whether you lead or follow, you are in ultimate control of your experience.”

They had gone once around the room when he raised his voice again. Leads, stay where you are. Follows, move one partner to the left.” Then again to Emma: “That’s you, hon.”

Emma did as instructed and positioned herself with the next lead, a tall guy with dark hair. She and her partner spent a couple minutes getting into a rhythm, not really saying anything. Emma was staring at the collar of his shirt, concentrating so hard he startled her when he spoke. “Hi, New Girl. I’m Ted. First time doing tango?”

“Yeah,” she answered. She really didn’t appreciate being called “New Girl”, especially after she’d literally just announced her name. But she masked it well, and said casually, “I’m pretty new to this town, actually. Been here less than a month, so I’ve still got plenty to see.” She realized she had been tango-walking this whole time without thinking about it, and she was proud of herself.

“Nah, once you’ve seen everything there’s nothing much to do. At least there are things like this and other sports programs and martial arts to keep us here. Well most of us. A few people I know have gone to see the world and live elsewhere now.”

It was fun, being able to chat, all the while never missing a beat with their steps.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I could live in a small town my whole life.”

“That’s how it’s been for many of us though.”

“SWITCH!” shouted Mr. Killian.

“Whoop, gotta go I guess. Nice to meet you,” Emma said as she took her hands away.

He stuck out his hand and said, “You too, thanks for the dance.” She took his hand and shook it.

Her next partner was one of the girls, a thin blonde that had taken a lead position. “Hi Emma, I’m Ella,” she greeted Emma without hesitation. Well this was weird. She felt a sort of exhilaration about being paired with another woman. Or maybe it was more like trepidation? She had been partnered up with women in other things, like sparring in boxing, or school projects when she was younger. But being this close together physically, holding hands and such; it felt sort of… awkward was the only way to describe it.

“Hi Ella,” Emma replied as confidently as she could. She kept her eyes on her feet- Ella had a smaller frame than the guys, so it changed their balance. “How long have you been dancing?”

“Oh, I’ve been dancing ever since I was young, and at another studio. But I just started tango... I guess it’s been about 3 years now?” _Seems like a lot of people stick with this for a while._

“Wow! You must be really good.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m the best in the class, but- I don’t mean to brag- I’m up there.” She grinned sheepishly.

“Do you teach too?” Emma was feeling a bit more relaxed.

“Sometimes, when Killian can’t make it one of us takes over.”

“Mary told me about private lessons when I signed up. I know I don’t know you that well, but I’m just curious… do you teach those too? I may ask you one day if I need it. Also, again out of curiosity, do guys teach private lessons too? Other than our teacher.”

“Yeah, I do. And there are guys, but you’re probably better off doing private lessons with a female instructor. I only say this because most girls start as ‘follows’, as you are now. But after a while some of us learn to ‘lead’. It gives us perspective and makes us better follows.”

“Yeah, Mr. Killian told me a bit about it.”

“Mr... Killian? Don’t think I’ve heard that one before.” She laughed. “They kind of throw you right into it huh? But anyway, if I had to suggest anyone, it’d be the Mayor, over there. Ignore whatever you’ve heard about her- she’s great. She helped me more than anyone when I started tango.”

“What? How so?” Emma didn’t believe Regina could be helpful at all. She’d met Regina twice, and twice Regina had been less than friendly. Or had Emma done something to make her mad? If so, she wished Regina would just come out and say it so Emma wasn’t left wondering. And what did Ella mean by “whatever you’ve heard about her”?

“SWITCH!” Mr. Killian said again.

 _Damn it_ , she had to make sure to find Ella later and hope she’d want to continue their conversation. She thanked her for the dance and the advice, and moved on.

Emma subconsciously wondered where Regina was, as Regina was just on her mind. Emma was curious to see if she was leading, not because she hoped to be partnered with her. In fact, she was crossing her fingers that it was just the opposite. She spotted Regina several places away, and as she anticipated, Regina was leading. Emma prayed they would finish their “walks” before they were forced to pair up.

Through her next few partners she learned that there was a huge gap in the experience levels for this class. Some had been here since it opened six years ago. Some had studied even longer elsewhere. Some had been there for less than three months. And there were others in-between.

Then there was Killian, who had grown up dancing with Mary. When Mary had decided to turn her passion into her career, she had recruited his help to make it happen. It worked out well for him- he had a job he loved that he could live comfortably off of- and it allowed Mary to share some of her responsibilities. And so the Seven Seasons became a successful endeavor.

She ran into another female lead, about six partners later. Her real name was Isabella French, but she almost never answered to that name- everyone knew her as Belle. Emma learned, from talking to her, that she, Ella, and some of the others who gave private lessons always had access to this room, even when Mary wasn’t around. That way they could tutor around their own schedules.

The music stopped suddenly. “ _ALL RIGHT_. Everyone back to your side of the room please,” Killian called out. “Since we have a newbie in the room-” that made Emma flush, “-we’ll be reviewing the single axis turn! Right side only for today, unless I have told you otherwise. You know who you are.”

He called Regina forward. “Our lovely Mayor Mills, would you kindly let me demonstrate on you?” She nodded and went to the center of the room with him. She had a curiously blank expression on her face, but she walked with a swagger that screamed “you are all unworthy of the ground I walk on”. Well, at least that’s how Emma read it.

Mr. Killian was explaining how to do the move, but Emma tuned it out, deciding that watching might be easier. She focused her attention on their feet- they did one normal step and Regina stepped with the opposite foot and Killian did something with his arm… and Emma was lost. All she knew was Mr. Killian made Regina spin while he stood still. After watching it a few more times, Emma gave up trying to understand; it might be easier if she just tried it later, when she could ask her partner for tips.

“So once we learn this turn, we can use it in a variety of ways. Here, we’ll show you. It’s going to look complicated, so don’t panic. But in the end, everything we are about to do has the same basis- the single axis turn.”

He hit play again. A sweet melody played on a violin was accompanied by a fast-moving piano line and matching percussion. Regina and Killian commenced their demonstration with the very same walks Emma had just learned. Then they turned exactly as Mr. Killian had shown them a minute ago.

Then, something happened. As if by magic, their bodies dissolved into one; they were a single being with a shared spirit, energy pulsing through each point of contact between their bodies, to the heartbeat that was the music. One step poured into another until it looked like their feet were no longer touching the ground. Even a detail as insignificant as a glance in a given direction was done in perfect unison.

Emma felt the goosebumps rise on her arms. Her mouth went dry. She felt her heart swell so big that it pushed the beginnings of tears into her eyes. She had never witnessed something so beautiful that made her so… happy.

That was it. She wasn’t going to quit until she was that good at it. She looked around the room. The veterans were nodding their approval while some of the greener crowd stood gawking. When Emma realized she was one of the latter she immediately changed her expression to determination.

There was something that was eating at her though. She mulled over it subconsciously while she watched the previous display. But now the thought had taken form. How could Regina act like dancing the tango meant nothing to her and then pull off something as magnificent as she just had? What was she trying to prove and to whom?

She was definitely intrigued, but that didn’t mean Emma had any desire to be friends with Regina unless she showed a little more respect.

 _It’s a stupid, irrelevant thought anyway_ , she told herself.

More importantly, she couldn’t wait to pair up again. She was so inspired that she just wanted to jump right in and pick it up as quickly as she could.

So when Mr. Killian called for it, she approached the first lead she saw. She was glad that so many of the people here were helpful- they gave her tips on how to execute it more easily or how to make it look better. Emma was starting to get the hang of it.

After a few rounds, she ended up with Mr. Killian again.

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself, love,” he grinned.

“Yeah!” Emma exclaimed, “I thought I was having fun at first, but… watching the real thing was so motivating! It’s so rewarding when I _get_ something, and I bet the learning never stops!”

He chuckled. “Well, looks like we’ve got you hooked.”

She winced when she saw who her next partner was. _Dammit._ She was so eager to try the new move that she hadn’t paid attention to where Regina was in relation to her.

Emma didn’t want to make a scene, so when Mr. Killian called out to switching partners, she did so gracefully.

Regina took one look at her and cast her eyes down in what was likely disgust. Emma felt uneasy- she felt like her heart was bouncing around in her stomach, feeling both self-conscious and repulsed- as Regina took her hand in an open embrace, making Emma’s hand prickle with some unknown sensation.

For a while they didn’t speak. There was a tangible stiffness in the air between them. When she looked up at Regina’s face, she was looking over Emma’s shoulder at the next couple.

Emma set her ego aside and resolved to be civil, at least in a public situation like this. She hadn’t formally introduced herself to Regina- well, she’d tried to, but she’d had the intention of attacking Regina with a mop handle seconds before- so they’d never gotten a real chance. It didn’t hurt to try again. Emma hadn’t done anything that wasn’t justified. She had thought the station was being robbed, after all. Regina just had to see that she was a respectable human being who had made an honest mistake.

“You dance pretty well.” Emma ventured.

Regina looked mildly startled. She met Emma’s eyes momentarily and mumbled some sort of acknowledgement. She was silent for another moment so Emma figured that was the end of it. Suddenly, Regina finally spoke. “It helps to have the right equipment, such as shoes.”

 _God, are we still on this?_ Emma considered. She could take it as a personal attack. But she could also give Regina the benefit of the doubt. She hadn’t insulted Emma’s shoes _directly_ with that particular statement. So she let it pass.

“Yeah. Yours are pretty cool.” As soon as she said it Emma wished she could take it back. It was such a pointless comment. She could have said something a little more stimulating to the conversation. She could have asked where to get the best shoes. But the moment had passed. The conversation was dead, and she had killed it. “ _Pretty cool”??_ Of all the ways to describe a pair of shoes, she had to say the lamest one.

But whatever, she kept her chin high and played it off as if she had just said the most socially acceptable thing ever. Plus she could say that she had had the last word if anyone asked.

“Of course. I make sure they are,” Regina said, her face a little more relaxed.

Regina signaled that she was initiating a spin. They’d done the move several times already, so Emma caught on to it right away. She liked to believe that she was a quick learner, and the fact that she was getting better at this with each partner only boosted her ego.

After executing the turn, Regina pulled Emma back into a walk. “It also helps if you have a good lead.”

“Hm?”

“You can be a good dancer, but if your lead doesn’t know what he’s doing, you might as well just... not dance. That’s where knowing both parts comes in handy. If I’m with a beginner I can at least show him how to be competent.”

“Do you like leading or following better?” Emma didn’t know why she said that, but, oh well, it kept the conversation alive. Talking helped the time pass, but ugh, these were the absolute _slowest_ few minutes in her life. At least Regina was talking _to_ her and not _at_ her. She was capable of humanity.

“It doesn’t matter. Like I said before, this is more of a public service so I play whatever part is needed.”

 _Yeah, that’s a lie._ Even if Emma didn’t have a talent for knowing when people were telling the truth, she had seen the look on Regina’s face when she danced with Mr. Killian. She was passionate about dancing.

“Uh-huh. I see,” was all she said, her tone heavy with playful skepticism.

There was a long moment of silence. Regina’s demeanor stiffened. “Anyway we’ve strayed from the main issue. I will not condone unacceptable footwear in my presence again,” she was interrupted as Mr. Killian called for everyone to separate and go to the sides of the room. “I’ll leave an extra pair of shoes in my car to spare the both of us from it happening again, but I expect you to be more prepared in the future. Don’t take this an act of charity.”

She released Emma and walked away without another word. Emma stood frozen, mouth open in shock.

_Whoa, where did that come from?_

Was Regina making an offer and being overly cautious, or was she really so offended by Emma’s shoes? Most likely Emma’s comment had set her off, but geez, it was a joke. If Regina couldn’t take a joke then that was her problem.

Whatever it was, Emma was upset. However, she was determined not to stoop to Regina’s level, so she let it go. She just needed to stay away from her the rest of the night.

And so she did, and the class came to an end without further incident. Mr. Killian went off on a tangent about posture and elbow placement, so they didn’t do much else that night, but before she knew it, it was 8:00PM. “That’s all, I hope everyone has a good night!” he concluded.

Emma stood and watched her peers grab their belongings and file into the elevator or up the stairs. She wanted to stay after to talk to Mr. Killian. All in all she had had a great time, despite the unpleasant moment she had endured with Regina. Speaking of Regina, she had almost forgotten. She looked around for Ella to ask what she had meant about Regina earlier. Ella had already left. It’d have to wait for another time. So she went to talk to their teacher instead.

“Hi, Mr… Er, hi Killian,” Emma said when he appeared to have a free moment.

“How may I be of assistance, Ms. Swan?”

“I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed the class. It’s interesting, I had no idea there was so much to it. And watching you and the Mayor dance… I don’t think I’ve seen anything more beautiful in my life!”

“Strange, you mean to say you’ve never looked in a mirror?”

It took Emma a second to process what he just said. She hated flirting, because she never knew what to say. Plus she wasn’t interested in this guy, or anyone really. Right now, she was at a stage in her life when she just wanted to live her life for herself. “Well aren’t you a smooth. You get it though, I was really inspired, and I’m definitely going to be back. I actually feel like this is something I could do for life.”

“Well then, I’ll accept the compliment. Thank you.”

“So, do you think I should go to the Q&A tomorrow?”

“I don’t recommend it so early on, but it’s not my decision. If you’re really set on it, be my guest. Just know that it’s nothing like this one.”

“Ok, see you tomorrow then.”

Mr. Killian waved and turned to address someone else who wanted a word with him. Emma grabbed her things from the lockers and took her leave like the others before.

_One last thing._

On her way out, she stopped at the reception desk. Of course, it was empty again. _They’ve really gotta work on that._

“Mary? It’s Emma,” she called into the open door behind the desk.

“Just a minute!” Mary yelled back from within.

Emma shrugged and grabbed a pamphlet from the table, something she should have done _before_ she started. She studied it and learned that the Seven Seasons hosted 4 types of traditional ballet, 3 contemporary dances classes, 8 types of ballroom dance, and even a hip-hop class. She honestly couldn’t imagine anyone she’d met in the town doing hip-hop.

“Hi Emma, did you enjoy the class?” Emma hadn’t even seen her come in.

“Yes, I did, very much. I want to sign up.”

“Great! So we have a couple options to choose from, depending on how active you’d like to be. If you’re thinking of coming just one day a week, the daily drop in fee is probably best for you. It’s $10 per class, so it’d be $20 for two in the same day.” Emma nodded in understanding, and Mary continued. “Now if you’re looking for more, we have monthly packages- $90 for 3 classes a week, or $120 for unlimited visits. Whichever you choose, we’ll give you an attendance card to help you keep track of your progress.”

Emma didn’t hesitate. “The last one. The unlimited visits package is what I want.”

Mary smiled. “Guess you really did enjoy it. Go ahead and come in the rest of this month on the house, and we’ll start billing you next month. Sound good?”

“Sounds great to me! Oh yeah, do you know where I can get ‘tango shoes’, or whatever they’re called?”

“Sure, check out Geppetto’s shop. I get mine there. Sorry, I usually remind newcomers to bring the right kind of shoes, but must have slipped my mind this time. …Sorry!”

She wrote down the directions to Geppetto’s on a scrap paper as she verbally communicated them to Emma.

A minute later Emma put the folded paper in her jacket pocket. “G’night Mary!” she said as pushed the door to go out.

“See you soon,” Mary called back.

\-------

Emma was in a good humor the rest of the night. She didn’t feel the gravity of her job weighing her down. She was too preoccupied breaking down the moves she had learned and trying to figure out others she had seen, but hadn’t learned. It was interesting- the mental stimulation was her favorite part.

She’d even made herself a real dinner, baked chicken and potato wedges, just so she could walk around the kitchen in tango steps.

Thank goodness she lived alone.

Real life wasn’t always such a dream, though. The next morning she’d have to go to work and face that reality. The culprit was still on the loose.

But at least for tonight, she slept soundly, with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is almost done! I'll post it as soon as I think it's satisfactory. :)


	4. Valuable Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case is getting nowhere fast, and Emma needs shoes! The answer must be somewhere in Storybrooke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, I had it written out for a while, but not edited. I'll make it a point to get chapter 4 (already started!) done ASAP! Thanks for reading! :)

Emma arrived at the office the next morning feeling refreshed, ready to take on whatever was waiting for her. She had to remember to thank Mr. Hopper later for his suggestion.

“Mornin’, Sheriff.” She threw her things on her desk and sat down. Then she pushed them to the side and opened the “Serial Burglar” case file she had left on her desk.

“I hear your first tango class went well.”

Emma flinched. “What? How’d you know about that?” She hadn’t told Graham. Emma hadn’t really told anyone about it.

Graham smirked. “My friend Ted. Have you met Ted? I’m assuming you’ve met Ted. You were all he was talking about last night.” He winked. “So… what do _you_ think of him?”

“Shut up,” she said as she punched him playfully in the shoulder. “Yeah, I met him last night. The architect, right? He didn’t tell me he knew you.”

“Yeah, I hang out at the bar with him and some of the guys. I’m not just my job, I have a life outside too.” He was still smiling, but his grin felt like a stab of annoyance in her gut. Maybe he hadn’t meant it, but he was essentially poking fun at the fact that Emma didn’t have any good friends here. She’d had friends in Boston, but since she moved here, the only person she really knew was Graham, and they were co-workers. There was Ruby and Mrs. Lucas, but Emma was also a patron at their diner. And she had only known them a few weeks; it wasn’t enough for Emma to consider them more than neighbors in a small town.

And now she knew that Graham had a social life and friends outside the office that he never bothered to mention to her. He could have invited her out sometime; it wouldn’t have hurt him. Then again, maybe it was a “guy’s night out” kind of thing.

 _“Whatever_ ,” she thought. Part of the reason she joined the tango class was to make friends. “ _I also have a life outside_.” Emma shrugged it off, let the conversation end there, and made herself look busy. She wasn’t going to let anything ruin her mood.

She sorted the contents of the file into piles, chronologically, when Graham stepped out for his usual morning run, hollering a “Bye Em”.

Now that he was gone, she could forget about him and really focus. Emma was never sure what she was looking for, but every day brought a chance at finding a connection. She compared the first two incidents:

The first had **“Incident #1”** sloppily handwritten across the top.

                _Date: October 28 th, 2013 _

_Time: 8:30am._

                _Reporting Officer: Sheriff Graham Humbert._

_Victim’s Information:_

_Last Name: Mordin         First Name: Rex                         MI: K            Title: Dr._

_Address: 364 Freesia Street_

_Phone: 555-3765_

_Details of incident: Dr. Mordin was leaving for work at 7:45am when he discovered his car, parked outside, was unlocked. Missing items include: a GPS system, a laptop computer, a rearview mirror car ornament, and $60 cash. Signs of forced entry: scratches on the window. Suspect likely used a coat hanger to unlock the door. No trace of fingerprints. No witnesses. No security footage. No injuries._

The next one, labeled **“Incident #2”** wrote:

                _Date: October 30 th, 2013 _

_Time: 12:45pm._

                _Reporting Officer: Sheriff Graham Humbert_

_Victim’s Information:_

_Last Name: Riggs             First Name: Ophelia                 MI: S             Title: Mrs._

_Address: 14015 Silverburgh Court_

_Phone: 888-6292_

_Details of Incident: Mrs. Riggs was at home in her garage preparing for a Halloween party. Garage door was open. Culprit likely snuck into house when Mrs. Riggs went to her backyard to get supplies from storage unit. Missing items include: a jewelry box, several pieces of jewelry, and Mrs. Riggs Wallet. No signs of forced entry. No trace of fingerprints. One witness said to have seen someone walk in, but was unable to identify. No security footage. No injuries._

 

Ugh. Same as yesterday. There were nine more reported incidents to review, and she had a general idea what happened in each of them. What could possibly connect them? The victim profiles all seemed so… random; there was no single “type” being targeted. There were men and women, well-off and poor, liberal and conservative even… most things you could think of, and they were spread all over the town. It didn’t make any sense. But it wasn’t in Emma’s nature to accept that there was nothing more she could do. There had to be _something_ she was missing.

Half an hour had gone by, and she was almost through:

**“Incident #8”**

                _Date:   November 12 th, 2013 _

_Time: 10:50pm._

                _Reporting Officer: Sheriff Graham Humbert._

_Victim’s Information:_

_Last Name: Lucas             First Name: Griselda                MI: W           Title: Mrs._

_Address: Granny’s Diner_

_Phone: 712-5555_

_Details of incident: Mrs. Lucas, known as Granny, was asleep in her bed, when she was woken by a creaking noise- the door that leads into the diner. Went to look and encountered the culprit but could not identify. Mrs. Lucas grabbed the culprit, a struggle ensued. Mrs. Lucas was thrown against the counter and rendered unconscious. Unable to identify suspect’s body type. Missing items include: a hunting rifle, cash from the register. Signs of forced entry: doorknob was removed, tools used were discarded in a nearby dumpster. No trace of fingerprints. No other witnesses. No security footage. Reported injuries: Mrs. Lucas broke her arm upon impact._

 

And finally, the most recent:

**“Incident #11”**

                _Date:   November 20 th, 2013 _

_Time: 12:50pm._

                _Reporting Officer: Sheriff Graham Humbert._

_Victim’s Information:_

_Last Name: Primblush    First Name: Michael                 MI: R                         Title: Mr._

_Address: 413 Pine Circle_

_Phone: 777-2586_

_Details of incident: Mr. Primblush left his home to go to the post office, and returned to a smashed window and missing dog, Drixy. Dog returned, blood on his snout. Only missing item was a decorative egg. Signs of forced entry: broken window and bloodstain. The culprit is possibly injured from a dog bite. No trace of fingerprints. No witnesses. No security footage. No injuries._

 

Emma took a minute or two to process everything she had read after reviewing the final report. Then she sighed. So far the only incidents that really stuck out to her were Granny’s and Mike’s case--- Mrs. Lucas’ because the culprit was almost caught, and Mrs. Lucas was injured, and Mike’s because it was the most recent.

Actually, now that she thought about it, it was strange that there was no consistency in the timing of the incidents. The earliest was reported at 8:00 in the morning, and the latest was close to midnight. _It’s possible there is more than one person at work here._ The thought might have surfaced before, but this was the first time Emma had consciously considered it. The time differences just made it seem more plausible. But there was always the slight possibility that it was one person. So that wasn’t much of a breakthrough.

 _What else… What else?_ Emma mulled over it a while longer. There were never any fingerprints, so they were all planned robberies. They happened all over town and at all times of the day.

Her mind started to wander; Mike’s egg got her thinking about chicken eggs; chicken eggs led to other bird eggs, to birds, to flamingos, to Africa- where flamingos lived- then to other animals that lived in Africa, to lions, then to… Regina?

She shook her head, decided that was enough for now and set about other things. She made sure all the paperwork in the station was up to date, sorted through the mail, checked the calendar for events, and so on. She even swept the floor and mopped- with the very same mop handle from yesterday- until it was almost noon.

She packed up her things, set them near the door, and sat in her chair. She put an elbow on the table and rested her head in her hand as she took her phone out of her pocket to check the time. It was 11:48. She liked to wait until Graham returned before she went about town, so the office wasn’t left unattended for too long. But upon remembering their conversation this morning, she reconsidered. The office would be okay for a little while. They had an answering machine, after all, and Graham could check it.

She wasn’t mad at him; she just didn’t feel like answering a hundred questions, and she knew he would try to set her up with Ted. He’d done that a few times in college, when one of his friends was interested in her. Whatever the outcome, he always respected her decision, and she appreciated that, but it was also a waste of time. She might, _might,_ play along later, but she didn’t want to deal with it now.

She checked the clock on the wall, and then her phone again, as if the clock wasn’t trustworthy enough. It was 11:50 now. As she weighed the possibility of getting a phone call in the next several minutes versus the things she needed to do, she settled with leaving right away.

She got up and made her way out, double-checking that the door was locked. She made a mental checklist: Granny’s first, drive around town, the park, community center, post office to send out stuff for work… And Geppetto’s for shoes! She had almost forgotten. She’d go there when she passed it on her route.

Once inside her car, she turned the key in the ignition and left for Granny’s.

\------

Emma was seated on a stool at the bar. The place was bustling- it was usually busy around lunch time. Before she got food, she liked to sip hot tea or cocoa, or nibble on the free crackers, until the customer traffic slowed.

“Afternoon Emma.” Ruby smiled and set a cup of cocoa in front of Emma. It had become routine, and Emma always appreciated it.

“Hey Ruby! Thanks.” Ruby nodded a “you’re welcome” and made her way around the diner to write down and deliver orders for the other patrons.

Emma sipped her cocoa slowly. Vapors of steam carried upward the scent of cinnamon, sprinkled delicately over the whipped cream. Emma found the smell especially soothing this morning.

She spent the next hour or so watching the clientele come and go, occasionally making small talk with those she recognized. She and Ruby kept an unspoken ritual- after the tea or cocoa, Ruby would take her order when the restaurant had cleared out; they would talk about things, like Ruby’s dreams last night or a memorable interaction with a customer, as Granny prepared the meal; while Emma ate, the three of them would chat about whatever, until Emma made the move to leave. Sometimes that wasn’t for another hour- they were so easy to talk to- and sometimes it was right when she finished eating, depending on her schedule.

She had a light load today so she allowed herself to linger for a while. Ruby gave her update first. She had dreamt of jumping off buildings and falling, then being lifted as if by a gust of air the moment before hitting the ground. “I wasn’t scared at all. Like, some part of me must have known it was a dream because I _knew_ I wasn’t ever going to hit the ground! What do you think it means?”

Emma honestly didn’t think it meant anything, but she wasn’t going to put a damper on Ruby’s imagination. “Jumping off buildings, hmm?” Emma pondered a moment. “What if… it means you’ve been bitten by a radioactive spider? Or a magic mosquito?” Emma joked.

That made Ruby laugh wholeheartedly. “Come on Emma, really. What do you think? I wanna hear your idea before I tell you mine.” The girl was persistent.

“Well, let’s see... You said you were falling? I’ve heard that falling means you don’t feel like you have control of something in your life. Maybe changing Leroy’s order 10 times a day is wearing on you.”

“Oh, you’re exaggerating. He’s really not as grumpy as he lets on.”

“Anyway, I gave you my idea. What’s yours?”

“I think…” Ruby’s eyes widened. “Well I guess it felt like I was flying when I was lifted up. It was pure bliss, almost like being on a roller coaster, but I felt safer. And it just kept happening! So I think it was- hold on a sec.”

Ruby paused to welcome a guest. Emma didn’t know who it was, but apparently Ruby did.

Emma was still surprised that after nearly a month, she was still seeing new people all over the place. _Give me a year and I’ll be listing them alphabetically, forwards and backwards._

“Anyway,” Ruby had taken care of the customer and was coming toward Emma, “So, now that I think about it, it’s more like I was flying. But yeah, I was like- I was kind of being taken for a ride on the wind. So here’s my theory.” Ruby leaned in closer and lowered her voice to give her words a more dramatic effect. Either that, or she didn’t want Granny to hear. “Maybe I’m feeling stuck, in this small town, in this diner. Maybe I want to fly away and let life take me wherever it leads.”

 _Uh oh, shit just got deep._ Emma looked Ruby in the eyes. “Well, we can solve the problem with one question: do you feel trapped? Yes or no.”

“See, that’s the thing. I don’t know! I mean, I thought I was happy here. I never had any reason or ambition to leave. But now that I think about it… what if on my 30th birthday, I regret that I’ve never been to Australia? Or something.”

“Hmm…”

Ruby looked worried. “What if I’m meant to do something more with my life? What if my true calling is to be a fashion model but I never go to New York? What if I’m supposed to work for some super high tech agency? What if-”

“Ruby, I’m going to stop you right there and tell you, you are _always_ going to have ‘what ifs’ in your life. For the rest of your life. But you also have to make a choice and accept why you made it. And you are more than capable of handling that. I know you.” Ruby smiled meekly. “Maybe you need to change up the program a little, get out and do something… different.”

“Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know.” _Wait, duh._ “Oh yeah! I was going to tell you about my night when you were done, but I guess now is as good a time as any. So I went to a tango class at the Seven Seasons.” Emma raised her eyebrows, knowing Ruby would take the hint.

“Yeah! The Nolans and their students eat here a lot, so I’ve heard of it before. Just never considered going myself.”

“Well, maybe you should! I went yesterday, and I’m going again tonight, but the beginner class is Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and first class is free. You might enjoy it.”

“Yeah sounds fun. I’ll think about it-”

“Think about your dream,” Emma goaded.

“Geez, I’ll go tomorrow,” Ruby giggled, “Wait, what’s tonight?”

“It’s a Q&A for more experienced people. They said I could go, even though I just started, to see what it’s like. I’m not sure you want that to be your first experience with it, just a suggestion.”

Ruby nodded. “Okay, yeah that makes sense. So tell me how it went!”

Another voiced chimed in. “Oh? And what is it we’re talking about?” Emma and Ruby turned to see Mrs. Lucas carrying a plate with Emma’s food. There was a well-done steak sprinkled with pepper, a baked potato with sour cream and green onions, and two slices of buttered toast. Emma also noticed a slice of key lime pie on the side that she hadn’t ordered.

“Hi, Mrs. Lucas. Just about tango last night… um, I didn’t order-”

“I know you didn’t. It’s on the house. And I’ve told you a hundred times, call me Granny.  Mrs. Lucas is entirely too formal.”

It warmed Emma’s heart, knowing these two ladies. They were probably the closest she’d ever had to family.

“Yes Gr- ”

“So, tell us about your night dear.” Mrs. Lucas leaned on the counter and positioned herself in such a way that she could see the door. Her left arm had a cast and sling on it. At this point, the only other person in the diner was the room was the customer Ruby had talked to, an average sized man wearing a hat. Emma studied him, but couldn’t see his face.

Emma took a gulp of water and cleared her throat. “Ruby said the Nolans come here a lot, so I guess you know about the Seven Seasons dance studio too, Granny?”

“Yes, it’s their life,” she answered, half rolling her eyes. She was wiping the counter with a damp rag. Emma hadn’t even seen her bring it out.

“Well, long story short, my job was wearing on me and I needed an outlet. So I talked to Mary and started tango. Last night was the first class. I danced with several people, most of whom I didn’t know, but they were very nice. Well, almost all of them were. And the teacher was… interesting.”

“Is that why you didn’t come in yesterday,” chimed Ruby.

“Ah no, something came up with work... Mary was two nights ago, and classes are in the evening.”

“Was it related to…” said Granny, glancing at her left arm.

“Mmhmm. I mean we can’t be 100% sure they’re all related incidents, but seems like its same guy who got you.”

“Well they’ll be in for a surprise when they find out that ol’ gun probably doesn’t work,” Granny whispered, “the Ticklicker has been in our family for ages, but not once have I seen her fired.”

Emma nodded, thoughtfully, trying not to react at the strange name of the family rifle.

“Still,” Mrs. Lucas continued, “It would be a shame if we didn’t see her again. I was hoping to pass it on to Ruby eventually...”

Ruby turned away from Granny and rolled her eyes.

Emma stifled her laughter by digging into the pie first. She appreciated the tart gift and wanted Granny to know. “So back to tango,” she said between bites, “The teacher’s name is Killian Jones.”

“He’s quite a character isn’t he?” Ruby said. She flinched, almost shocked that she had spoken. “Sorry… go on.”

“Yeah he is, but he’s also incredibly talented… and a very good teacher. I wish he’d lighten up on the cologne a bit, though.”

“Yeah, he is pretty potent. I always notice when he walks in. I’ve never seen him dance. What was it like?” Ruby had an expression like stone on her face. Well, as stony as she could get. Emma didn’t need her superpower to see right through it.

Granny silently excused herself to clear the table where the man in the hat had been sitting. Emma had been too invested in her food and conversation that she hadn’t seen him leave.

She cut a piece of steak and stuck it in her mouth. It was crunchy and charred on the outside, and the fresh pepper gave it just the right amount of zest. The inside was brown and juicy, but not bleeding. Emma had had Granny make several steaks over the weeks before discovering that this was her favorite. She could also taste hints of salt, lemon, and rosemary.

“Go on, I can hear you from here,” Granny said. Emma quickly swallowed her food- she could talk more openly now that they were alone in the restaurant. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was exactly 1:40.

“To be honest… Seeing him dance with… with _her…_ was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” She hadn’t meant to put such a strong inflection on the word “her”, but it was enough for the other two to notice.

Ruby giggled. “Someone jealous she didn’t get to dance with Mr. Jones, hmm?”

“What? Oh. …No! That’s not it I--- just let me finish my thought. Anyway, it was incredible! I didn’t know two people could be so in sync with each other mentally and physically. If I’m jealous of anything, it’s that I haven’t experienced that kind of connection with anyone… doing anything! Plus, he was the first person I danced with.” Emma quickly shoved another bite of steak and potato into her mouth to shut herself up. She had obliterated the pie.

“Geez Emma, I was kidding,” Ruby smirked.

Emma swallowed again. “Well, maybe I can’t put how amazing it was into words. So since you’re going tomorrow, you can see for yourself.”

Granny raised an eyebrow from the kitchen, where she had brought the soiled dishes. Emma guessed she’d ask Ruby what that was all about later.

“Yeah, yeah. By the way, who is this “her” you mentioned?”

“Oh, no one. Just Regina. The mayor.”

The diner went silent. Ruby fiddled with napkins in the holders as if she had just remembered it was the most important thing in the world. Granny knelt to load dishes into the dishwasher.

Emma set down her fork. “Ok… is there something I should know about the mayor? I mentioned her name and now you two are acting strange.”

“No we’re not,” Ruby said. Her voice cracked as she spoke.

“You’re lying to me. I can tell. I can always tell.”

“What would I possibly have to hide?”

“You tell me. You’re acting really guilty.”

“Emma. It’s nothing. Just let it be.”

“Fine.”

Ruby shrunk away into the kitchen, and Emma ate the rest of her meal in silence. Emma was annoyed that they were keeping something from her. But she was even more intrigued by whatever was up with Regina. This woman obviously had a history that people weren’t willing to talk about.

Emma picked up her napkin and cleaned her face and hands. A minute later, Mrs. Lucas came over with the bill and collected the payment. Emma left a couple of extra dollars on the counter, as was the norm for her.

Ruby held the door open for Emma, her eyes like a puppy’s. Emma gave in and smiled. She didn’t want Ruby to think she was mad at her, because she really wasn’t. She just wished they hadn’t been so secretive… and _lied_ about it. A simple “we’d rather not discuss it” would have sufficed. Emma thought she meant more to them than that… but that’s how her life was. _Figures._

“Later. I better see you in class tomorrow if I don’t see you at lunch, Ruby.”

Ruby’s face relaxed. “Yeah, definitely!” she said cheerfully.

\-------

It was after 4:00pm when Emma dropped things off at the post office, concluding her list of errands for work. The day had flown by, but she still felt like there was plenty of time to spare. _One last stop._ Now that she had finished all the “important” things, she could do personal errands- today that meant stopping by Geppetto’s and getting shoes.

When she had found the place, she was surprised at its appearance. It was more like a large garage than a store. The name of the store was displayed in an archaic font across the top of the opening.

Emma got out of her car and went toward the open door. She guessed the man sitting behind the desk at the back of the room was the owner. He was an older man, almost completely bald except for the small line of gray and white hair that reached from ear to ear, around the back of his head, and ran right into his facial hair, a white beard and mustache that covered half his face.

“Welcome!” he said when he saw her, “what brings you here today?” He had a distinguishable accent, which Emma presumed was Italian.  

“Hi, I’m Emma Swan. And you are…?”

“Pardon, I’m not used to having to introduce myself. I’m this store’s namesake- Geppetto at your service,” he said with a chuckle.

“Not a problem, I understand. I’ve been here a few weeks as the new detective, so I’m still getting to know the town. I’ve been told not much has changed in the last few decades.” Emma brushed her hand over a solid wood cabinet and said “I just started a tango class last night, so I was told to come here for shoes… wow, you have some beautiful things in here.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. Oh, it was Mary who sent you here, wasn’t it? She’s always looking for ways to support my shop- she even buys her own shoes from me. Give her my thanks.”

“Will do.”

“Well, let’s have a look, shall we? Your shoe size is…”

“Eight.”

“All right, please excuse me a moment.”

Geppetto stood up, turned around, and went through a door behind his desk. Emma though it looked like it went into the house, but it could have also been a storage area. She hadn’t seen enough to tell.

While she waited, she browsed the rest of his goods. There were definitely a lot of clocks. There were other pieces of furniture, dolls, knick-knacks, and even some paintings, but wow, they did not compare to the number of clocks. Emma wondered if the old man had made of the wares all himself, or if he had employees or partners.

He returned with a pair of shoes in his hand. No box. It was still strange to see how differently people did things in small towns as opposed to the city.

Emma took the shoes, thanked him, and removed her own shoes, brown boots laced to the knees. She slipped on the left shoe she got from Geppetto, and then the right. They were light brown with small heels- about two inches- and the straps latched over the top of her foot to the ankle. There was a cup for the heel, cushioned on the top- to prevent blisters, she figured. The material on the soles was incredibly soft and felt cool to the bottom of her foot as it touched. “Is this real leather?” she asked.

“Of course, I use nothing less! The rest is solid wood covered with fabric.” he beamed.

Emma got up and walked around, keeping her arms out for balance at first, and then relaxing them as she found her balance. “Wow, these are comfy!”

“Heh heh… I knew you’d like them. My works are like my children, so I find the perfect match for every customer.”

“Looks like you found mine. That went a lot faster than I expected. What do I owe you?”

“As a first time customer visiting Geppetto’s shop, I have a special price for you- only thirty-five dollars. You won’t find better quality at this price.”

“I doubt I’ll find better quality anywhere at any price,” Emma said warmly.

Emma removed the heels and put her own shoes back on. She placed the shoes on the counter, as Geppetto strode over to the register. Emma handed him two 20 dollar bills, and he gave her a 5.

She thanked him and headed back to her car.

“Take good care of them! And tell me what you think,” he called out, waving to her over the counter.

“Will do!” Emma shouted over her shoulder as she opened the door.

Emma was finally on her way home, after stopping by the office one last time. She met Graham there and gave him a quick recap of her day, asking him if there were any new developments.

\----------

By the time she left for class, she had eaten, dressed, watched a bit of some soap opera that was on TV, and applied some light eye makeup. She wore her brown boots outside- she had seen people the previous night changing shoes just for class.

As she drove, she had a bizarre sense of reality for a moment- she knew she was driving, and she knew she was almost at the studio, but she felt like she had skipped forward in time. There was a whole block of time that was a complete blank, but suddenly she was at her destination, and could not recall at once how she had gotten there, or even what she had been thinking about. _But I made it safely, so I guess that’s what counts._

She grabbed her new shoes by the backs and went inside, greeting Mary as she passed through the reception area.

As she walked through the hall she wondered vaguely if Regina was going to be there, and was annoyed that she cared. Why should she? But she supposed that someone as beautiful, yet insufferable, was noteworthy whether she liked it or not. She hit the elevator button and shooed away her thoughts. Instead, she mentally prepared herself, reviewing everything she knew.

The door opened before she finished. She stepped into the room and took note of who was there. Mr. Killian was there of course, as well as several people she had met the day before, like Ella, Mike, Belle, and Ted. Upon noticing her, Ted waved enthusiastically at Emma. _A little too enthusiastically_ , she thought, as she mentally shot down Graham’s less-than-subtle offer to set them up. There were, however, less than half the people here than at the beginner’s class. And no Regina.

Emma’s heart sunk which, again, annoyed her. Why the hell was she reacting this way at Regina’s absence? Regina had not been particularly nice to her and had this attitude that she was just _above_ everyone else.

Yet, Emma was disappointed that she didn’t see her. _What’s wrong with you, brain?_ It was almost laughable.

She didn’t beat herself up over it too much though. She resolved- or rather convinced herself- that it was because of the shoes. She must have wanted to prove to Regina that she was competent and had her own pair, and then Regina could shut up about it.

Actually, that sounded really immature when she put it that way.

_Stop it Emma._

She went to say hi to everyone.

She greeted Mr. Killian first, and he welcomed her with a smile and a fervent hug. She quickly went to around to as many people as she could to say “hi” and “nice to see you again”, and got compliments on her new shoes. Before long Mr. Killian instructed them to grab a partner and warm up with walks.

The warm up was quick- she had gone through three partners when they were told to stop and form a circle.

“Who’d like to start?” Mr. Killian asked the group once the circle had been formed.

A few seconds passed until, finally, Belle raised a hand and said, “Can we go over the timing of the Sentada we learned on Tuesday?”

“Right. Ella, may I borrow you?”

Ella came forward at once and they fell comfortably into an open embrace. Mr. Killian spent a few minutes demonstrating the “Sentada”, explaining to the leads how to signal the start, and to the follows how to read the signal. It was some sort of lift- Ella, or the follow, jumped up, folded both knees over one of Mr. Killian’s thighs, and sat sideways. Ella didn’t do it correctly right away, but Mr. Killian used it as a troubleshooting exercise for anyone having difficulty with it.

Emma thought she understood it pretty well, until she actually tried it. Her partners were gracious and helpful, though, so she pulled it off, albeit sloppily, a couple times.

They circled up a couple more times, and when there were no more questions, Mr. Killian figured out something else for them to work on.

She could handle this class, she thought. She’d double check with him for his opinion, and if he gave her the green light, she’d be tangoing four days a week.

Her last partner of the evening was Mike. He helped her refine her spins, as well as one or two of the things she had learned tonight.

“A-any luck finding who broke into my house?” he said later. Emma was surprised he still couldn’t look her in the eyes, but she guessed it took some longer than others to get comfortable with new people.

“Nothing yet. I’m still wracking my brain for some kind of connection… or a clue. Why does this guy have to be so good at this?”

“Well, every thief gets caught, eventually.”

“You can say that again.” Emma knew all too well. A long time ago, she’d been one. She’d had her own run-ins with the law. And yes, she had been caught. She had faith in her abilities to catch this person, and she wouldn’t give up until the culprit was behind bars.

“I hope you find him soon, that Pysanka really meant a lot to me.”

“That what?”

“I… uh… told you yesterday. The egg?”

“Oh yes- sorry- I remember now. The one from your mother.”

“Yeah it’s the only one I have, and it’s irreplaceable.”

 _Hmm..._ Emma had a hunch creeping at the outskirts of her brain. She tuned everything around her out the best she could… it was right there. She was so lost in thought she almost tripped over her feet when she heard Mike.

“Emma? Y-you ok?”

“Yeah, sorry, I was just… thinking about something.”

“Ok because class is, ah… over.”

Emma looked around the room. Everyone was gathering their things from the lockers or standing near the walls chatting. _Whoops._

“Sorry, Mike, I must have been more out of it than I realized.”

“Heh… yeah.”

Emma thanked him for his help and picked up her stuff from the lockers as well. A mixture of relief and a little disappointment passed over her when she noticed Ted walking out with Ella. Shrugging, she then went over to Mr. Killian.

“So… what do you think? Should I keep coming to Thursdays?” she asked him when he was free.

“I admit, you learn rather quickly. As long as you’re comfortable, it’s fine by me.”

Emma beamed. “Great! I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then! Oh, and it’s ok if I bring a friend, right?”

“Yes, that’s perfectly fine. Just come a bit early and have her meet Mary Margaret so she can sign the waiver and all that.”

“Awesome, I’ll bring her with me tomorrow then.”

“Good and done. If I may ask, who is this lovely lady?”

“You probably know her- Ruby, from Granny’s diner?”

“Ah, yes. I never forget a pretty face like that one.” He grinned amiably.

“I’ll tell her you said hi if I see her at lunch tomorrow,” Emma said, smirking. _What if…_

She said her farewells, and was up the elevator and in her car moments later. She set her shoes on the floor and her jacket on the passenger’s seat. She sat back and stretched before she turned the key in the ignition.

She had been driving a bit when she passed by Freesia street, where the first incident in the case file had taken place. She remembered meeting Mr. Mordin and investigating the area around his home and the inside of his car. She glanced over as she passed his house, then looked back at the road.

Then it hit her. The revelation she was unable to grasp when dancing with Mike. The connection between the incidents- what the culprit was after.

She glanced over again, zeroing in on Mr. Mordin’s car.

She thought back to each of the reports. _Yes, the hood ornament, a piece of jewelry, Mike’s egg, and Mrs. Lucas… her rifle?_

That had to be it. What else could the thief be after if it obviously wasn’t money, and the victims in each case were unrelated?

Emma gripped the steering wheel impatiently. She had to write this down before the thought left her. She found a good place to park on the street, turned the overhead light on, and grabbed her notebook.

She flipped to a blank page, clicked her pen open, and scribbled hastily onto the page:

                _possible motive: possessions of sentimental value._

 


End file.
